


To the Wolves

by AshesTheTerrible



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, End of the World, Friends to Lovers, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monsters, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Survival, Survival Horror, Torture, experiments gone wrong, galra - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesTheTerrible/pseuds/AshesTheTerrible
Summary: The Galra Experiment was meant to be a world changing occurrence. It was meant to create the ultimate soldiers and end senseless human death during war. But all things start with good intentions don't they?The experiment turned men to beasts and in an attempt to fight back, humanity in the end destroyed itself.Shiro, Lance and Keith, three men from different walks of life come together in a small survival band, for the only way to make it through the wilds of the new world is to have someone there for you.





	1. A Handful of Scientists

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge fan of apocalyptic settings and I've had this idea rattling around in my head for some time. Figured I'd get it out!!! In this setting the Galra were once men, but have turned to beasts due to the infectious nature of the scientist created disease. It is passed on through the traditional bite and takes several days of painful transformation for it to take final effect, which is becoming a monster and not being able to shift back. The Galra cannot come out in daylight. In this AU I headcanon Shiro as 24, Lance as 21 and Keith as 22. This is unbeated, so all errors are mine and I apologize in advance! As always comments are always welcome! Enjoy!

**Introduction.**

_ “We thought we were doing the right thing. Science was a force that could be harnessed and used for the greater good. We thought engineering soldiers would rid the world of senseless deaths caused by war. We could send animals into battle rather than humans. We could create the perfect soldier. We called it the Galra experiment. And it was going to be great. We were all so proud to be working on such a grand exploration. _

_ Everything starts with the best of intentions. _

_ The Galra experiment was no exception. _

_ We couldn’t contain what we had created. _

_ The serum used to turn animals to warriors was infectious to humans. It turned men into beasts stronger and faster than anything we were ready to deal with. It spread like wildfire. We didn’t stand a chance. In an attempt to stop the virus from spreading, we in the end destroyed ourselves.   _

_ There is no hope for us all.” _


	2. Radio Chatter

The quiet hum of the engine, the gentle rock as the machine made its way over the uneven terrain…it was all such a familiar equation to the young man. Almost comforting in the most unexpected of ways. The worn cloth seat was contorted to his form after many, many hard miles across a world he hardly knew anymore. The truck cab was like home to the young man. From the necklaces hanging around the rearview mirror swinging faithfully with the motion of the truck, to the stack of trashy magazines strewn across his passenger's seat...this was a safe place.

The sun was new and bright as it crawled up from beneath the rocky horizon line, determined to hang itself in the sky above. It took some dedication to rise and shed light on this sad little planet every single day, he’d give it that. 

The young man sucked in a thick breath, his lungs expanding against his seatbelt with the oxygen. He slipped his thumb beneath the old, frayed material of the strap. It wasn’t really like he actually needed to wear the thing. Just an age old habit that refused to fade he supposed. 

What, was he going to get pulled over and ticketed for not wearing one? 

The brunette let go of a sad chuckle. 

That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. 

His eyes scanned over the terrain blanketed out before the dirty windshield of his vehicle. The skyline was interrupted by hulking mountains jutting forth from faraway places, the white caps just barely visible against the sunrise. In another life, in another time, the scene painted before him would have been considered some sort of perfect happening, a sky full of oranges, yellows and blues bursting with glory against the proud mountains. 

It looked like something you might slap across a neatly printed postcard with “Welcome to California!” printed in bold face, colorful text across the top. 

Lance scrunched up his nose in thought, at least he was pretty sure they were on the cusp of entering California. It was hard to tell their exact location since they’d left the main highway behind a day ago. The asphalt of the monstrous stretch of road they had been so loyally following had abruptly become a disastrous parking lot of abandoned vehicles left to rot. Most days they could safely get away with following roads by weaving through the shells of the forgotten cars, but a crashed eighteen wheeler strewn across the lanes had left a sea of vehicles jammed together in its wake. 

The only thing to do was to go around, which meant carving a new road out of the underbrush with their truck tires.  

Even with managing to hug the edge of the great forest, there was still a sense of unease throughout the spans of the night. He knew that between the three of them, there had maybe been only two hours of sleep to be accounted for. Dense areas made them all nervous. Forests, cities, anything that wasn’t an open space was always a place to raise concern. Too many obstacles meant there was no place to run, and in this world running was the only way of surviving. He’d become quite good at the art of fleeing. After two years in this hellish new world, one’s feet simply became accustomed to it. There were too many things for nightmares to hide behind. Too many corners where things could be waiting…watching. There were eyes out in those dark spaces. There were things with teeth out in those heavy shadows. 

Your feet always had to be ready. 

They were all tired. Exhausted even, but regardless they’d been up at the earliest break of dawn, as soon as the sun’s rays had barely begun to crack the sky. It was all second nature by now. Crawl out of the back bench-seat that served as a sorry excuse for a bed, dress in clothes that hadn’t been washed in a week, check over the three trucks, ensure all the guns were loaded and placed carefully within an arm’s reach…then go over the days checklist. Eat if there was ration, address the map, secure the route, load up in the all too familiar driver’s seat and get on the road. 

Just another day. 

To think there was a time where his morning routine had consisted of shitty rec center coffee and a simple walk from his dorm to his first class of the day at Garrison University was nearly absurd anymore. What a thing that his biggest concern back then was remembering if he had a test or not that morning. This consideration had his stomach tightening. If he consumed himself in the moment for long enough he could nearly make out the harsh lines of the University’s buildings, the large oak trees full and fat with leaves no-matter the season. He delved deep into his memories, coming up with the ones full of Garrison in the fall, when the weather was just beginning to change and the first chill was filling the fresh air. Weather not quite fit for a heavy coat, just requiring something light. He could almost feel the breathy chill of the breeze that had filled his cheeks and reddened his nose.

With a heavy swallow and his slender fingers tight on the wheel he shook the thoughts loose and let them glide out the window. If he lingered too long in the past, the present didn’t quite seem worth it. The world would never be the same as it was then. Hoping that it would was a foolish thing that faded within the first few months of being thrust into this here and now. It was childish to cling to that anymore. And he was way past childish.

Garrison was most likely just empty halls barely standing in ruin now.

The oak trees were probably still there, old things like that didn’t fall...even when the rest of the known world did. They were ancient, strong things.

Lance huffed out loudly and leaned his elbow along the middle console of the old Ford pickup.

The hour was nearing seven.

Time to wake the other boys up with a little bit of his good humor he figured.

The young man grabbed his radio and clicked the speaker button, pressing the thing nearly to his mouth as he slumped back in his seat and rested his vision on the bed of the black truck in front of him.

“Goooooooodmorning boys! Welcome back to another glorious day, kicking things off with yours’ truly, the one and only Lance, sharpshooter, talk show host with the most, general badass and total ladies man.” Lance chimed over the radio, releasing the button with a grin.

Immediately there was a loud groan from one of the other lines and Lance snorted.

“Goddammit Lance every morning?? We have to do this EVERY morning.” Came Keith’s obviously annoyed tone.

One could blame the dark haired man’s viciously sour attitude on the lack of sleep, but anybody that had been around him for even a short amount of time would quickly figure out that was just his nature.

“Ooooo somebody has an attitude the size of Texas on him this morning.” Lance sung with a cheeky grin.

There was a frustrated sound in response.

“Now shut up and strap in princess. It is a bright and beautiful morning as we approach the great state of  _ California _ ! …We are in Cali right?” Lance questioned cracking his neck.

“Yes.” Came Shiro’s voice, who was obviously more amused with Lance’s typical morning antics than Keith tended to be.

“Right, Right thank you big man. See why can’t you be like my most loyal listener Keith? Just  _ enjoy _ it.” Lance said grinning.

“Oh my god shut up.” Keith nearly snarled over the handheld.

“So back to what I was saying…welcome to Cali boys, the great state where if the Galra don’t get you first the earthquakes and wildfires most certainly will!”

There was laughter from what Lance had to assume was Shiro’s end.

“It is currently a crisp…” Lance paused to look at the thermometer hung on his dashboard.

“Sixty three degrees out and looks like we aren’t going to see a cloud in the sky. It’s turning out to be a good one.”

“So for the topic of the morning…let’s see any suggestions from the listeners out there?” Lance continued cheerily.

“How about the topic is Lance shuts his mouth and we all just drive and enjoy the silence.” Keith growled, his voice buzzing with slight static through the small device.

Lance rolled his eyes.

“Ok, how about…what is the  _ one _ guilty pleasure you miss most about the old world?” Lance decided upon the topic after some moments of consideration.

“Big man Shiro, what’s your take?”

There was hardly a fraction of hesitation between the question being asked and Shiro’s answer.

“Ice cream.” Shiro groaned in a longingly fond way.

There were two sighs from the other boy’s, almost in unison.

“Chocolate ice cream. I’d give my other arm for just one more tub of Blue Bell.” Shiro huffed.

“Chocolate? You’d give your arm for just  _ chocolate!?  _ C’mon, that’s a lot of limb for one stinking flavor. At least go Neapolitan. Then you get strawberry and vanilla too.” Lance scoffed teasingly.

“Naw. Just chocolate. I’d eat the entire thing in one sitting.” Shiro said with a chuckle.

“I’d go sherbet. Three flavors, melts in your damned mouth. Phew.” Lance grinned.

“I could go for some mint chocolate chip.” Keith’s voice joined in.

“Welllll, well, well look who decided to join the conversation.” Lance teased.

Keith sighed.

“Don’t make me regret that decision.” Keith grumbled.

“Mint chocolate chip does sound pretty good though, didn’t think anybody who still has a mullet for a hairstyle would have decent taste.” Lance sniggered.

“I swear to god Lance I’m about five seconds from rear ending you.” Keith snarled.

“Ohhh Keith not over the radio! Keep your filthy talk to yourself.” Lance gasped in fake shock.

“LANCE!” Keith barked.

“Alright guys, take it down a notch.” Shiro’s calm tenor interrupted the two other men sternly.

Lance cleared his throat.

“So mullet head-…”Lance began.

“ _ Lance.”  _ Shiro warned.

The brunette coughed and sighed.

“Uhh must be a frog in my throat this morning. So  _ Keith _ , what guilty pleasure do you miss the most?”

“I kind of miss bookstores.” Keith admitted after a pause.

“Bookstores?” Lance questioned.

“I mean technically those are still somewhat around.”

“I mean yeah, but there won’t ever be any new books. Nothing new will be written so there won’t be any growth. I miss going in and buying a new book.” The dark haired man explained.

“I didn’t know you even liked reading.” Lance laughed.

Keith sighed in exasperation.

“I like history books.” Keith defended.

“That’s cute.” Lance sneered.

“Ok well what’s your’s Mr. Lance in the morning?” Keith huffed.

“Ok, ok, so ice cream and bookstores are fine and all…but mine has got to be…free internet porn.” Lance said cheekily.

“ _ Oh my god.”  _ Keith snapped loudly.

Lance could hardly hear the other man’s sounds of exasperation over Shiro’s heavy laughter. Lance was pretty sure he hadn’t heard the big man laugh like that in months. It was the deep kind that came up from the depths of one’s stomach.

“ _ Porn!?  _ Of all the things you miss  _ porn!?? _ ” Keith was still having trouble grasping the comment.

Shiro was laughing even harder.

“Hell yeah I do!! Oh c’mon don’t tell me you don’t miss ploppin’ down and opening up an entire like, endless amount of every kind of porn under the sun!?” Lance said in a matter-o-fact type of fashion.

“ _ No. _ ” Keith said quickly.

“Oh that’s a damned lie. You and I both know when you were a little teenage brat you made the internet discovery too.” Lance argued.

“I didn’t leave my room for like three days after I figured it out.”

“STOP, I do not want to hear this, what is wrong with you!!” Keith complained loudly.

“Oh c’mon we  _ all _ did it. Even if you won’t admit it. You hear Shiro? Yeah that’s the laughter of a man that knows what I’m talking about.” Lance chimed.

Shiro’s laughter had deteriorated into incoherent snorts.

“You are disgusting.” Keith sighed.

It was a mystery as to what powers thought the three very different men might be good candidates to be thrust together and as much as they fought one might begin to consider it a mistake…but Lance wouldn’t have it any other way. There was something about the end of the world that brought conflicting personalities together. Here in this wild that had become the reality of it all…companionship was the only thing left to cling to. Everything else came and went, but another’s company was something you held onto to no matter the circumstances. Starving would kill you of course, as would a colorful array of other things…but at least most methods were quick. Loneliness was a slow beast. It took something different from a soul. It turned you against yourself and rotted your mind from the inside out.

Lance knew that more than the other two men did.

Lance was not a stranger to the creature that it was.

As the other’s conversed over the radio, the young man’s mouth transformed into nothing more than a hard line across his features.

His gut twisted uncomfortably.

That was a long time ago.

That was years ago.

But the wound was still deeply imbedded in his flesh.

It would never heal, not really at least.

Lance’s eyes flicked to the spot in the sky just over the very tops of the trees stretching out before him. Without the two other men he’d never be experiencing this sunrise.

He breathed in deep.

He owed the two of them so many damned sunrises.

That was a debt he wasn’t sure he could ever repay.  

  
  
  


**Two Years Earlier:**

There was a stench in the air that could not be described by something so simple as words. It was more than that. It was overwhelmingly heavy as it settled over the small space like tar, sinking down over the cold concrete, creeping along the cracks in the walls. It was warm, the stench. Hot and thick. It was so hard to breathe it in. It doesn’t go down easy. Every swallow of oxygen was a fight that he was too tired to take on.

If he really wanted to he could pick the smell apart, section out everything adding to the repulsive concoction.

It consisted of urine, human waste, and the undeniable, unmistakable stench of rotting flesh.

It was coming from the next cell over.

Seeping through the walls that kept him from really  _ seeing  _ what was over there. Maybe it was better that way.

He didn’t need to see to know what lies there in the neighboring room.

The occupant is dead, and has been for several days now.

Except nobody cares enough to do anything about it because it doesn’t matter.

Either way, this would have been the outcome for them. They either would have died here or died there, both ended in the same situation.

He’s suddenly so viciously jealous of them.

They are long gone, spirit having wandered away from this horrid place days previous. They made a swift escape through the bars, treading light along the hallways…they’d felt the warmth of the sun on their face as they’d made that journey home.

His body clenched as he curled in on himself weakly, fighting back the onset of tears.

He couldn’t afford to cry. His body needed the fluids… he couldn’t even spare the tears anymore.

His breathing was a soft rattle in the silence of the room. Wheezing and deflated.

But each breath left him feeling less and less satisfied. It hurt to breathe the stale air down, his chest burning. He wasn’t sure there was a part of him anymore that didn’t hurt. It was all just pain and there was no room for anything else.

There in the dark, in the heat, he lay there at the back of the cell, eyes void of the glisten they’d once had. Like some dying animal having dragged itself into a quiet corner to let the end come for it. He was just ready for the thing to stop dancing in the shadows and come collect him. He was tired, exhausted even.

He couldn’t muster the want to live anymore.

He’d clutched onto it with such vigor for the first portion of his time here…how long had it been anyway? Weeks? Months?

It didn’t matter.

It had been  _ too long. _

He’d been so strong, but he was fading by the hour. He just wanted it all to be over. He didn’t want the stomach wrenching pains of hunger anymore, he didn’t want the aching ribs and the bleeding feet. He just wanted it to stop  _ hurting. _

His tired baby blues cracked open in the blackness.

He could almost swear he could just make out the fuzzy outline of a figure in the opposite corner of his cell. Something big, taller than any man he’d ever laid his eyes on. It didn’t move, instead it just stood there, big and ominous and it riled all new anger in the young man.

How dare it come just to dangle release barely out of his grip?

The thing really did enjoy its’ cruel games.

But this surpassed the definition of mean. This was just inhumane. He didn’t deserve this, barely hanging onto the flicker of life by the tips of his fingers. He wanted it all to stop. He wanted the calm of just…letting go. His hands were tired, his grip was weak, and yet the thing did not lift a finger to help him.

Instead it just  _ watched. _

With beady little pupils that flickered from the dark.

Its’ expression never changed. It was simply a silent observer and he was so fucking angry that it wouldn’t just  _ take him. _

“ _ You…motherfucker…just please…make it stop…”  _ He rasped weakly.

It acted like he’d never uttered the words at all.

One single, fat tear slipped down his filthy cheek and pooled on the hard floor.

_ “I know you can hear me!!”  _ He wheezed, voice cracking into a fit of hacking coughs.

The thing didn’t seem shaken by his pathetic display.

It didn’t care. This was all just how it was. How life was, how the world was. Tragedy was all just a part of it now. Maybe it always was. But death had gotten more than its fill in the months passed. Death had become a greedy thing, fat and healthy with the state of it all. Now it could afford to just stand in the corner and watch.

And suddenly the clatter of a heavy door from somewhere down the long hallway resonated through the building.

Lance looked to the corner once more, eyes begging the thing there silently.

But it was gone, scared off by the noise.

It just left him here.

Footsteps bounded off every surface of the lengthy hall, assaulting his tender ears with every, single slap of heavy boots against concrete.

He should have been concerned.

He should have been terrified.

But there was nothing left.

All of his emotions were scattered along the dirty floor and he just couldn’t be bothered to collect them once more.

All he had left was anger for that damned thing called death that had left him all alone here.

Rough hands grabbed the crooks of his arms and hauled him upward.

His scream came forth from his lungs like some wild firecracker having been lit and exploded in his chest. The pain shot through the length of him from the sudden movement. He hadn’t so much as traveled an inch in days and he was pretty sure his shoulder was badly bruised or broken. The rough hands didn’t take notice though.

Without his consent he was dragged from the cell he’d known as his only home for so long he was almost more afraid to leave it. Wherever they were taking him could be worse. Whatever they have in store could be so much worse.

His head swam with the confusion of it all.

The cell door was loud as it slammed shut behind them.

His feet dragged the ground as they took him away and he couldn't find it in his soul to even fight.

As he was stolen by the pair of heavy men he could see the glint of eyes staring back at him from the cell.

And then everything went white.

The light burned his eyes in a way he hadn’t prepared for and his lids screwed shut instantaneously. His ears were pierced by what sounded like cheering, voices molding together in an overbearing wave that rattled his bones and caused his heart to race. He pried his lids open feebly, water streaming from the corners of his sockets in quick rivers.

It was suddenly blatantly obvious that he was outside.

The voices were coming from behind high chain link barriers to either side of him. He could hardly move his head to get a better observation of the situation. All he knew was there were high concrete walls surrounding him. And suddenly the big men stop, hefting his limp body up onto a solid platform. They lashed his wrists together far too tightly and lifted him. With the other end of the rope attached to a bar looming high overhead he can feel his ribs stretching out until he’s barely able to touch the platform with his toes.

It hurt.

He’s sobbing and he can’t stop.

The concrete beneath him was stained red with what he knew was old blood. The men made sure his restraints were secure and then suddenly they were leaving too. Abandoning him just as death had. 

Lance’s eyes scanned the world before him. The area seemed to be a large concrete drainage ditch, the mouth to the sewer system only several yards from where he hung.

He blinked several times, only then putting the pieces of it all together.

Dusk was looming over the sky, the bright rays of the sun still shedding light across the world…but they were fading.

The cheering behind him became louder.

The big man raised the binoculars to his eyes and peered through the lenses with a hard expression slapped across his face. A huff of breath expelled from the depth of his frame.

Keith was perched on the hood of his vehicle, casually sinking his teeth into the skin of an apple. He made an approving noise as he chewed and swallowed. It had been a miracle they’d found such a rare treat earlier in the day. An apple tree of all the things perched right on the outskirts of town like some lovely beacon of nourishment. They’d robbed the tree of all but a few of the ready fruit and the two men had looked forward to making meals of them for the next few days.

“What is it?” Keith grunted from his seat.

“Another one of those crazy,  _ end of the world _ worship groups.” Shiro snarled, the distaste clear in his tone.

The end of the world really allowed the true colors of human nature to show through. When everything came crashing down, everybody handled it in the way they thought to be best. Some people saw the Galra infection to be a cleansing. Those that were unworthy were sacrificed and the world was stripped bare from its’ sinful nature. The beasts were just the messengers. They killed those that weren’t worthy to survive in this brand new world. So bands of people believing the Galra to be some sort of Gods began forming in the nooks and crannies of the planet.

This wasn’t the first time the two men had stumbled across groups like these.

When there was nothing left to cling to, humans created a new religion to help them swallow down the reality of something so bleak. 

Then there were people like Shiro, who just accepted the world was shit and every day was a test of survival. These monsters weren’t Gods come to save humanity. They were just the results of scientists meddling in things they shouldn’t have been. These creatures were the children of human experimentation and there really wasn’t much more to it.

Shiro shifted his weight as he squinted.

Something really had the group of crazies riled up.

“C’mon Shiro we need to get the vehicles safe before the sun goes down.” Keith grunted.

Shiro waved him off.

“Yeah I know just hold on.”

The voices grew louder as two large men suddenly came into view.

Shiro chewed his bottom lip.

They were dragging someone.

He could feel his pulse beginning to pound in his eardrums.

It was a young man, skinny and nearly limp. He looked like nothing more than a skeleton as the men lashed him to the platform by his wrists.

Shiro swallowed hard.

He knew this scenario all too well.

They were sacrificing the man to their heathen gods. When night fell, and sunlight no longer reached the ground of the planet…the monsters would come for him. What a sick thing it all was, humans  _ feeding  _ each other to the beasts instead of saving one another  _ from  _ them.

Shiro’s fingers quaked.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

Before he really knew what he was doing his feet were in motion.

Keith’s eyebrows rose in question.

“Shiro what are you-…” Keith asked as Shiro nearly ran to his truck and yanked the door open.

When he slammed it closed he had his rifle in hand, reloading the beast of a weapon with a hard click.

“There’s a guy down there.” Shiro said lowly.

Keith scrambled off the hood of his vehicle.

“ _ And?  _ Shiro we can’t, it’s almost dark and how are we supposed to feed another mouth??” Keith argued firmly.

Shiro did not stop, only looked back over his broad shoulder with fire in his eyes.

“I’m  _ going  _ to get him. You can either stay here and cover me, or leave.” Shiro snarled.

And with that the large man was breaking into a sprint. He couldn’t take the truck down there, he may never get it back out of that incline, but he could damn sure get there on foot.

“Fucking  _ hell  _ Shiro!” Keith groaned as he grabbed his long range out of his passenger side and jumped into the bed of the truck.

The least he could do was provide cover for the idiotic man.

Shiro’s shoes slapped the dirt with a certain sense of urgency, and without a second thought he was going over the side of the ditch, sliding and slipping, doing his best to keep his footing. The man fired off several rounds toward the fences filled with the hollering people. His first instincts were to assume they had weapons, and to guess that they would be using them against him.

As a bullet whizzed by him and ricocheted off the concrete to his left, his hunch was proven right.

He squeezed off several rounds in the direction the bullet had come from and was rewarded with screaming of a different sort.

The young brunette looked like an old towel hung out to dry, his neck limp, his body bloody and bruised. He hardly resembled a human anymore. Shiro’s heart instantly hurt for the man. This kind of thing shouldn’t happen. Yet here they were, in this godforsaken world that allowed even the worst of things to become reality. It had pity on nobody.

Shiro reached up and cut the heavy rope loose with his knife and the man dropped like a sack of rocks into his arms. Shiro found it painful just how light and easy the man was to heave over his shoulder. A man his size shouldn’t weigh this. He was nothing more than just bones.

A shot from over Shiro’s head rung out and the solid sound of a bullet hitting flesh thudded into his ears. He knew the shot to have come from Keith’s weapon. The kid had decided to humor his rescue mission after all…

He didn’t waste time looking backward. He was quickly losing daylight.

A deafening roar that traveled from the depths of the dark sewer caused every hair on the back of Shiro’s neck to stand on end.

His heart thundered as he willed his legs to move faster.

Those monsters in the dark were about to make their great entrance into the nighttime world.

Keith’s screams echoed down from where the trucks perched.

“C’MON SHIRO LETS GO!!!”

Keith’s voice was high and panicked.

Shiro rushed to his truck and dumped the limp young man into the backseat before sliding himself behind the wheel. A turn of the key, a rev of the engine and the squeal of tires slinging dirt was all he left behind.

Shiro checked his rearview mirror to ensure Keith was behind him, and the headlights of the red truck had him breathing a sigh of relief.

He could hear far off howls in their wake, but he knew they’d gotten at least a fraction of a head start.

Shiro’s radio crackled to life.

“Goddammit Shiro that was too fucking close!! Where the hell are we supposed to spend the night now with those things in tow??” Keith barked.

Shiro breathed in deep, his eyes flicking to the backseat where the naked young man lay sprawled across the cushions. He didn’t care about any of that. This was one less life that would be handed over so easily.

“Just keep driving. We’ll stop when we get out of town.” Shiro said flatly.

Keith did not respond, but it was obvious the other man was peeved with Shiro’s rash decision. Keith had the right to be. The last thing they needed was a sick body to drag them down. The last thing they needed was another belly to keep fed.

Shiro’s fingers clenched the steering wheel tighter.

That didn’t matter.

The brunette in the backseat took a heavy, strained breath.

Shiro waited for more movement from him, but there was none.

The man’s chocolate hair was plastered to his sweaty forehead and his skin was covered in a thick film of dirt and filth. His facial expression was pained, his hands balled into fists as he lay there motionless. Shiro’s eyes were unsure of what to take in first, the dried blood caked beneath the man’s fingernails or the bruises blossoming like flowers down the length of his torso and buttocks.

What on earth had they done to the poor kid?

He tore his eyes away to focus on the road.

He’d done the right thing. Or at least that was what he was going to tell himself.

A night of relentless driving had the two men greeting a bittersweet sunrise. Shiro hadn’t heard from his counterpart for the better half of the night and he knew he was deserving of the silent treatment. He’d put them both in danger and that was rightfully considered extremely stupid.

The small stream snaking across the countryside was a welcome reprieve for the men.

A stream meant a place to clean up, to refill the barrels and in this instance to rest after a sleepless night. Shiro pulled off the small road, the tires crunching the rock beneath as he pulled up beside the body of water.

The slow moving waters reflected the bright colors of the sunrise…and Shiro was very close to considering it something beautiful…if such a thing could exist anymore.

The big man’s boots hit the rocky ground and he could hear the slam of Keith’s door but no words followed it up. With careful hands the man addressed the new member of the group, the brunette having hardly moved throughout the night. Shiro very gently gathered the young man in his arms, fetched a small towel from the interior of his truck and started toward the water. The kid needed some cleaning up and Shiro was pretty certain the brunette was feverish.

The silver and black haired man sighed as he toed his boots off at the stream’s edge, the rest of his clothes being shed shortly after. For a moment he considered the best way to go about this, and ultimately decided the entire encounter was going to be awkward regardless of what he did. But the man couldn’t sit up on his own and Shiro was just going to have to make due.

He descended into the cool waters, slowly sinking down to settle himself on the floor of the stream as he maneuvered the young man into his lap.

The brunette shifted and made a confused sound as the water licked at his skin, his hands instinctively holding onto the closest thing to him, which happened to be Shiro’s broad shoulders. Shiro’s hands were kind and patient as one held the young man steady and the other began slowly running the wet cloth across the man’s dirty skin. Each pass of the towel showed just a little more of the man’s actual skin, which was a golden, beautiful bronze.

The brunette’s eyes rolled open dazedly.

Shiro paused as he became aware of the man’s gaze.

“It’s alright. You’re ok.” Shiro whispered softly.

“W-Where am I?...Who are you?” The young man’s voice was tattered and rough.

His eyes were suddenly very fearful as they darted over the situation and across the unfamiliar man.

Shiro’s hand occupying the wet cloth rubbed comforting ministrations over the tawny man’s shoulder.

“You’re safe. My name is Shiro.” Shiro answered slowly, his voice never rising from a soft whisper.

The words swam slowly through Lance’s ears.

“ _ Shiro?”  _ He whispered, testing the foreign name out, rolling it on his tongue.

Shiro’s palm never stopped slowly cleaning the caked dirt and blood from Lance’s body.

The big man nodded.

“I don’t feel good.” Lance whispered, his eyes threatening to close once more.

“Everything hurts.” He continued, his throat clasping with oncoming tears.

“I know. But you’re ok. I’m going to take care of you.” Shiro reassured.

Wracking sobs slowly made their way up through the man’s form, his hands tightening on the solid body before him. He was so confused and so scared yet something in the voice being spoken to him made him believe that this place was safe. He wanted to trust the soft words.

Shiro paused and wrapped both hands around the thin man.

Lance sobbed harder as he clung to the stranger.

He should have been more wary, he should have been concerned…but the other man was warm and welcoming. He was something real. At least Lance thought him to be. Maybe this was an incredibly vivid dream. He buried his face in the man’s neck and cried into him. Every tear he’d been saving just came flowing forth without his control.

Shiro gently rocked the sobbing man, hushing him as one would a fussy child. He didn’t really know why he was doing it, but it felt right. It felt needed.

Keith watched from the shore, his tired eyes soft as he observed the scene.

Half of him felt guilty for being so angry.

Watching Shiro sit there, comforting a crying stranger, he felt sadness rise in him. What had the world come to where he’d rather leave a stranger in need than help?

Keith scoffed and headed down the bank.

He knelt near the water, elbows resting on his knees.

“How is he?” Keith questioned.

“He’s weak and he’s got a fever. He needs food and liquids…but I think he’ll be ok.” Shiro responded as big fingers carded through brown locks.

Lance did not look up from Shiro, simply stayed curled against the only thing he knew to be safe in that very moment.

Keith nodded.

“I’ll see if we have any meds in the truck and I’ll get some food.” Keith grunted.

Shiro nodded.

He knew Keith would come around. The man was just hardened by this world they called home.

They all were.


	3. A Pair of Aviator Sunglasses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think of this chapter as a sort of 'calm before the storm'. And Also Shiro and Lance burying their feelings for each other and not really knowing what to make of them. Little bit of a slow burn. Enjoy!

When the tires of the group’s trucks kissed asphalt, there seemed to be a certain sense of relief laid out over the three vehicles. Roads always felt more familiar, something that was the standing legacy of the world they all had known for most of their lives, homage to the world that no longer existed.

Lance breathed in deep, allowing his hand to hang out of the open truck window, the wind rushing through the crevices of outspread fingers. The segment of the long highway  was nearly empty of abandoned cars, the old road spread out before them, faded grey speckled with trash and debris.

If the young man simply blocked the rest of the facts out, it almost felt like some sort of long road-trip.

_ Almost. _

A small smile broke his lips.

This was just a cross country vacation taken with his two friends. They would see all the sites and stop at all the tourist traps they ran across. They’d hike through the Grand Canyon, stop at Yellowstone, take pictures at the Statue of Liberty. That was all this was. Some grand trip that had been planned long ago.

The brunette sighed.

If only that was true.

Suddenly the young man’s radio crackled to life.

“There’s a gas station up ahead. Gunna stop and see if there’s anything worth salvaging.” Shiro’s voice kissed Lance’s ears.  

“Roger that big guy. I need to friggin stretch my legs anyway.” Lance replied.

“Sounds good.” Keith’s tired voice came across the device. 

The long vacant station stood old and faded against the backdrop of an endless sea of trees. It's large, boldface sign had tumbled down long ago and laid dormant in the dirt below, vegetation having reclaimed it subtly. 

When humanity fell, nature took back what had once belonged to it alone. It was beautiful in the same sense that it was overwhelming sad. 

Dust settled softly around the truck as Lance eased the machine into the dirt covered lot. He shoved the stick into park with a loud click and sighed heavily. 

The hours in the cab had worn on him. His back was in knots and there was an ache deep down in his bones that he just couldn't seem to shake loose. The lack of sleep wasn't helping his case. 

The bronze skinned man popped his door open and his boots hit the ground with a hard thud. Lance stretched backward, groaning loudly as he rotated his shoulders and tried to shake the stiffness loose. 

His eyes flicked to the side, alerted to the crunch of shoes against the dry ground. 

The dark haired man approached, ebony circles clinging to his sockets. 

Keith looked about like Lance felt. 

The lanky man rubbed his neck and slammed his door shut, pistol loyally strapped to his hip. 

“Hey Keith how's about you give me a shoulder massage.” Lance teased as he turned to flank the other young man. 

Keith rolled his dark eyes. 

“No.” Keith growled. 

“Oh cmonnnnnn Keith.” Lance pestered ruffling Keith's hair. 

The dark haired man shooed Lance's hand away. 

“Get Shiro to do it.” Keith snarked side eyeing the brunette. 

Lance huffed with a small smile. 

“I’m sure he would.” Keith said deviously. 

Lance pouted blatantly. 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Lance huffed stubbornly. 

Keith laughed. 

“Oh you know what it means.” Keith chuckled.

Lance screwed his face up defiantly. 

“C'mon the guy acts like the sun shines out your ass half the time.” Keith snorted. 

Lance folded his arms.

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” Lance grinned. 

The other man wasn't wrong. There was a certain favor that the big man saved for Lance. Whether it was just his nature or if the man was carrying some sort of flame for him it was to be discovered. Either way Lance didn't want to linger on it too long. 

The two approached the black truck with tired smiles. Mostly there was a general jovial attitude about them with being able to stop for a moment and stretch. 

They were on guard of course. For the time being at least. The space hadn't been thoroughly checked over, it was unknown if it was safe. Beasts were known to hide in any dark nook and cranny they could find to ride out the length of the day. 

But regardless it was a moment they weren't in the vehicles…and that was a welcome reprieve. 

The larger, white and black haired man stood at the hood of his truck, feeding several rounds to his sawed off. He didn't seem to share the other two men's excitement to be out and about. 

Shiro didn't like new places. 

He would be on edge until the entirety of the space was checked through and through several times over. Only then would he shift his guard down. 

He snapped the weapon closed and looked to the other men, his eyes fat and ebony. Lance caught Shiro's gaze, observing the strong outline of Shiro's cheekbones. 

There is was. 

This type of electricity that Lance never really knew what to do with. He always just assumed this was what happened when you spend long amounts of time in close quarters with the same small handful of people. This was a sense of closeness that went beyond friends. It was a stronger bond forged by survival.

That's all it was. 

Shiro turned away and started towards the station, gun at the ready. 

“Let's check the place over before we get too comfortable.” Shiro grunted over his shoulder. 

Keith was hot on the other man's heels, pistol drawn and ready to be squeezed off at any moment. Lance casually followed, rolling his neck as he took his own gun from its holster. 

The door was left hanging ajar, half come loose from its hinges as it slumped uselessly. The place was quiet. So very quiet. The silence was heavy as it rolled over Lance's ears. 

Shiro nodded toward Keith and the young man started off to the left, taking slow calculated steps as his eyes searched through the ransacked shop. 

Lance stayed close to Shiro’s hip as the man combed through the fallen shelving and scattered junk food. 

And suddenly there was the clatter as something crashed to the linoleum flooring. Shiro's hand immediately pressed into Lance's chest hard, in a quick protective motion. 

Shiro's gun raised as he stepped forward. 

A single can rolled to a stop at Shiro’s boot. 

Lance wasn't even sure he was breathing as their eyes locked on the small object. 

And then from the corner wandered a large rat, it's beady eyes roaming over the two men. It scampered across the floor and disappeared into a large crack in the opposite wall. 

Shiro's shoulders seemed relax, but only slightly. 

It took the better half of an hour for the men to slowly comb through the station. 

With every freezer, closet and cabinet checked Shiro finally seemed to be at ease with the new space. 

But even then the older man shifted straight from checking for safety, to collecting for survival. 

Lance watched him from across the room as the silver haired man rummaged through the store, collecting food that wasn't spoiled or destroyed by the rats.

He had a certain look on his face. 

The look he got when he was thinking too hard.

Lance knew it was from the lack of sleep. 

He was tense and short, solely concerned on ensuring the three of them would be fed for the week. 

Lance frowned as he wandered through the store, sauntering toward the sunglasses rack. The young man spun the display and plucked a pair of aviator shades from the shelf. He tilted his chin in the mirror and waggled his eyebrows as he observed his reflection thoroughly. 

Lance stole a glance over at Shiro, a devious expression painted across his face. 

He grabbed another pair of darker sunglasses and trotted across the tile toward the tall man. 

“Try these on.” Lance said with a genuine smile. 

Shiro turned, a can of what looked to be corn clutched in his prosthetic fingers, a questioning expression slapped across his features. With that the slightly shorter man daintily slid the sunglasses onto the other man’s face, settling them on his ears.

Lance stepped back and tilted his head to the right as he observed the new fashion accessory.

“Oh yeah, now  _ those  _ look killer.” Lance said with a brash wink.

Shiro couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across his lips.

“I don’t know if these are really my style.” Shiro said modestly.

“You can’t even see how they look on you. C’mere.” Lance huffed as he grabbed the other man by the shoulder and dragged him to the display rack mirror.

“There we go. They look awesome. I assure you.” Lance cooed in a matter-o-fact type of fashion.

Shiro shrugged his shoulders up and peered over the tops of the silver rimmed, slightly triangular lenses.

Lance slung his arm around the big man’s shoulder.

“We look like a couple of apocalypse badasses.” Lance chuckled with a wide grin.

Shiro laughed lightly.

Keith looked up from raiding the long dead fridges for bottled water.

“They do look pretty good.” Keith offered his two cents before walking out the door with a handful of bottles to store in the trucks.

Shiro allowed his smile to widen.

Lance shared the expression, their eyes meeting in the mirror before them...But only for a moment.

“Don’t be so uptight.” Lance said softly as he gave Shiro a little nod and pushed his lenses onto his forehead, shoving back brown locks that desperately needed a trim.

“Yeah…” Shiro sighed, the grin still clinging to the corner of his mouth as he watched Lance wander out of the shop clutching some dusty bags of candy and a few California themed souvenirs.

Shiro let go of a slow breath as he observed the bronze skinned man.

Lance was the only one who really knew how to subtly bring Shiro back down to earth when the man crawled too far into his own head. Keith wasn’t exactly one who was too keen on picking up the emotions of others. He and Shiro tended to miss cues regularly, and it wasn’t as if they really meant to. But Lance never missed a thing.

Shiro watched with soft, fond eyes as Lance helped Keith load up some of the rations they’d managed to scrounge.

They were stocked for at least a month. They had plenty of water and gasoline. They were making decent progress and above all…they had each other. They were healthy and they were strong.

He shouldn’t worry as much as he did.

Most days he couldn’t really help it.

They were the last souls on this earth that he had. They were it. Just them. There was nobody else.

Some days that realization was a harder pill to swallow than others. They were more important to him than all the food he could eat or the water he could drink. He would protect them at all costs. So of course he couldn’t help but to worry.

Shiro paused to look in the mirror once more, observing the dark glasses on his face.

He grinned.

He supposed they didn’t look half bad.

 

 

 

 

The night was cold as it breathed its’ chilled breath against the closed truck windows. It crawled and paced around the truck, searching for a way into the cab, but there was no entrance to be found. Pale luminance from the lanterns settled on the dash and middle console of the black truck reflected in the thick glass. Flickering and dancing to some soundless tune that none of the men could hear.

The creatures were afraid of fire.

They feared the way the flame danced so slow and easy.

Keeping the lanterns close was crucial.

The night previous had called for each of them to man their separate truck throughout the night and it had taken a toll on them all. They had become accustomed to the nightly routine of all bedding down in the dark truck that Shiro called his own. It was the most fortified and had the largest cab. With the back seat folded flat and stacked with layers of pillows and blankets it made for a halfway decent bed.

Now those blankets were the only thing keeping the night’s cold whispers out of the men’s bones.

Keith laid halfway propped back in the passenger’s seat, taking up his preferred sleeping space. The backseat was cramped enough with both Shiro and Lance’s bodies, and Keith wasn’t really ever in the mood for such close quarters. Shiro didn’t press the issue.

Shiro lay on his back, head propped on his folded arms as he stared up at the ceiling of the cab, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He was so tired, and yet sleep tiptoed just barely out of his reach. It wasn’t an unusual event, this dance he did with slumber. It had become quite the regular occurrence, as frustrating as it may have been.

He blinked slowly, his eyes heavy and yet refusing to close.

The body so tightly pressed to his side suddenly shifted, a slight whimper coming from the owner’s mouth. Shiro sat up, turning so he could free one of his hands and run it gently over the familiar slender shoulder.

Shiro couldn’t feel the sweater he was running his artificial fingers across, this ugly green thing Lance took a liking to and chose to sleep in near constantly, and part of him hated that fact. Those monsters had taken even that from him. His family, his home and his arm. That’s all this world did was take and take, even when one had nothing left to give. Shiro grit his teeth and frowned down at the foreign fingers. He hated them. He made to move his hand away, but a soft, frightened sound from the young man kept him from doing so. 

The silver haired man closed his eyes and gently continued to stroke his fingers over the brunette’s arm. In this moment his prosthetic didn’t matter. Shiro knew the touch was received well by the way Lance’s furrowed brows relaxed suddenly and the young man rolled to curl in towards the familiar sensation. Shiro allowed the younger man to press himself against his form, legs invading Shiro’s space to tangle together. 

Shiro sighed and allowed Lance to settle down again. 

He didn’t mind the extra body heat really. 

If it kept the nightmares at bay he was more than willing to provide that comfort.

Shiro suddenly felt eyes upon him from the front seat. 

Keith’s pupils captured the lantern light softly as he looked to the other man. 

“What do you think he’s dreaming about?” Keith questioned softly. 

Shiro shrugged and tugged Lance closer when the young man’s face contorted into something that was very near a pained expression. Lance’s fingers grabbed at the material of Shiro’s shirt and he tucked his head beneath the bigger man’s chin. 

“Shhh...you’re ok…” Shiro whispered very softly in the shell of the sleeping man’s ear. 

“Who knows. Something awful I suppose.” Shiro answered Keith’s question quietly. 

“I don’t even dream anymore.” Keith sighed distantly as he watched the interaction before him. 

Shiro sighed. 

He dreamed. 

Sometimes.

But he wasn't about to talk about those unspeakable things that had drifted into his brain uninvited. To say he was embarrassed was a large understatement. Some nights they were fairly unexciting, just distant pieces of memories. Sometimes they were as simple as eating a meal with his family. But then….other times, they contorted into something self indulgent and beyond his control. 

Sometimes they were images of the slighter, younger, sun kissed man, all the length of him nude and gorgeous. He’d be covered in a sheen of light perspiration, mouth just barely agape as he gasped for oxygen in short, shallow pants. And Shiro would have his mouth on the chocolate haired man’s neck, leaving ugly marks across the pretty skin. He would make his way to the man's lips, the act hurried and determined, as if they had little time to be there like that. Just recalling the reoccurring dream nearly allowed Shiro to hear Lance's voice in his eardrums, softly, beautifully, moaning wanton declarations of his name. And Lance would shift and move beneath him, greedily pressing into Shiro's hips as the pleasure was offered to him.

Shiro shoved the disgusting thing out of his train of thought. 

He'd lingered too long on it already. 

“I don't really dream much either.” Shiro replied finally. 

It was a harmless lie. 

Keith didn't need to know. 

Lance didn't need to know. 

And Shiro would bury it deep. 

He cared immensely for Lance. Ever since that first day where he'd clung to Shiro despite not knowing him. Lance had sensed Shiro was safe and Shiro had vowed from that second on to ensure no harm came to the young man. He'd suffered enough. He deserved someone to protect him. They all had been through great tragedy. 

But Lance...Lance had been through the unspeakable. 

Shiro only knew bits and pieces of it. He didn't dare pry too far. That certainly wasn't his place. Lance only shared what he was comfortable with. Sometimes he mumbled things in his sleep and Shiro simply put the pieces together. They'd done horrible things to the young man in those cells. They'd treated humans like animals or even less than that. 

The scars on Lance's feet, abdomen and shoulders were just a reminder of that place. 

Shiro had touched the scar on Lance's stomach once. On accident. Lance had shied away as if Shiro's hand had been an open flame. Shiro had apologized profusely but Lance had simply drawn into himself and told Shiro to leave it alone. 

Shiro wished it had happened to him instead. Lance had such a bright spirit...It killed Shiro to ever see darkness flashing in his bold, beautiful eyes. Things like Lance didn't deserve tragedy. Not that anybody did...But Shiro just couldn't handle Lance hurting. He wanted to heal it all. 

Shiro gently brushed Lance's locks out of his sleeping face and the young man seemed to settle just slightly. 

“He only relaxes like that when you are around y'know.” Keith said quietly. 

Shiro’s eyes flicked to the front seat for a moment.  

He shrugged nonchalantly. 

Keith smiled very slightly. 

The dark haired man wasn't daft. He knew there was a certain fondness that sparkled in Shiro's eyes for the brunette man. Shiro had a soft spot there in his chest for Lance. But if Shiro was determined to keep it buried, Keith wouldn’t address it. 

Keith breathed in deeply and leaned back against his seat. 

“Do you really think we will ever find somewhere safe?” Keith asked suddenly. 

Shiro paused for a moment. 

“I don't know.” Shiro answered honestly. 

They were following nothing more than a silly tale of hope that had been passed down from word of mouth. It could have been just a great tall tale that had slipped between the lips of strangers and had fallen into the laps of the three men. But it was all they had left to get their fingers around. A story, words that maybe meant nothing, but Shiro had refused to stop long enough to even consider that the entirety of their journey could be built off false information.

Maybe they were just chasing ghosts.

Maybe there had been no ghosts to begin with.

Maybe they didn’t even have that much.

It was said that the north was safer. The colder climates weren’t infested with the beasts. The things couldn’t stand the cold, something engineered into their very makeup. The chill would keep the very last of humanity safe from the wrath of the monster’s jaws. Shiro had heard it from the first group he’d banded with.

A group that was long since dead.

They’d all grown sick and without the luxury of modern medicine, they’d met untimely ends…all except Shiro of course. They had been good people. They had been the ones who’d found him after the Galra had attacked him, slicing his arm nearly down to bone. He’d lost the limb, but regardless it was better than being bitten. Being bitten was a death sentence.

Being bitten meant being infected.

Or at least that’s how everyone assumed the virus spread. Really there weren’t many solid facts in this present. There was just what other’s had told you. There was a database of experiences shared and cataloged to inform other survivors. That was all there was now. Who knew how much truth actually laid in them anymore.

Passing knowledge through teeth always allowed for some information to become skewed.

That was just the way it was.

“What if the north isn’t a reprieve from these things?” Keith whispered.

“What if this was all for nothing…?”

Shiro felt a pang of unease run through his veins and settle heavy in the pit of his stomach.

“Stop.” Shiro barked angrily.

He wasn’t really sure where the anger came from. He knew Keith had a point. Maybe he just didn’t want to hear it. Maybe he couldn’t hear it.

Keith looked taken aback for a moment.

“It’s not all for nothing.” Shiro said quietly, his tone leveling out.

He didn’t mean to snap are the dark haired man.

Keith nodded slowly.

The tension between them settled heavily. It was smothering as it lay over their forms like some sort of blanket. They both knew this path could be one taken in vain. They both knew this could end in a way none of them were prepared for.

It was something worth considering. 

But Shiro just couldn't stand to think of it. 

Not here, not now. 

Not in this peace and quiet, with Lance sleeping so soundly against Shiro’s chest and the world outside the truck cab a far away thought. He just wanted to have this to enjoy. 

If only for a moment. 

“I'm sorry.” Shiro sighed. 

Keith shrugged his shoulders. 

He knew the big man needed sleep. 

He knew the Shiro needed to hold onto the belief that they were headed in the right direction and the end result would be safety for them all. 

He knew that. 

He was done pressing the matter for the evening. 

“Sleep. I'll stay up and keep watch.” Keith said softly. 

Shiro took a heavy breath and nodded. 

And with Lance's warmth all around him, the man found some sort of slightly restless sleep. 

 

 

  
  
  
  


Lance sat perched on the very edge of the mass ruins, lanky arms dangled over drawn up knees like some sort of gargoyle that belonged on a decorated rooftop.

His position was honestly making Shiro just the slightest bit nervous.

The bigger man took a few steps forward, the light breeze blowing his hair back out of his face.

His heart sunk as he looked out over the enormous pile of rubble and metal that at one time had been a mighty bridge. It had once been their way across the large river below…but now it was nothing more than a tattered skeleton stretched out along the banks of either side. Twisted fragments reached up from the water’s gut like gnarled fingers reaching for the surface.

Lance picked up several stones, tossing each one down into the river below, watching the little things hit with a nearly silent splash then sink down into the depths.

“What do we do now?” Lance dared to ask the question finally.

Everybody was thinking it, but nobody really wanted to approach uttering the words out loud…Lance figured he’d best be the one to do it.

“God dammit!” Keith snarled kicking at the dirt as he turned away from the wreckage, as if he just couldn’t stand to look at the hulking pile of disappointment anymore.

Shiro ran a hand through his hair as he approached Lance’s side.

“I’ll just…look the map over…see if there’s another way across.” Shiro sighed.

Lance craned his neck backward to look up at the man towering over him.

Shiro’s face was sullen, his lips tight with discontent.

Lance hauled his body up off the ground with a huff and a good amount of effort.

“Eh, we’ll figure it out. Just another bump in the road y’know.” He said with a quick shrug of his shoulders.

He gave Shiro a half smile and headed off toward the black truck.

By the time Shiro had made it to the big vehicle, Lance was already comfortably planted in the front seat with his boots splayed out of the dash, the length of him stretched backward like some lazy housecat. Shiro couldn’t help but to smile at the young man’s demeanor.

Lance had the map unfolded across his lap, eyebrows shoved together in concentration as Shiro settled himself in the driver’s seat.

“Give me that.” Shiro chuckled as he snatched the map out of Lance’s hands.

It was common knowledge that Lance was no longer allowed to help with directions anymore. He’d gotten the group lost one too many times, and thus his days of navigating had come to an abrupt end.

Shiro snapped open the well-worn, wrinkled old map and began scanning for the next best route to embark on.

Lance chewed his fingernail and watched as Keith cursed and chucked a branch at the fallen bridge.

“Typical Keith meltdown, jeez.” Lance said with a roll of his eyes as he folded his arms back behind his head.

“Leave him be Lance.” Shiro grumbled, only sparing Lance a quick side glance.

Lance sighed and cracked his neck to the side.

“I’m just saying we are all pretty pissed about the bridge but-…” Lance huffed.

Shiro gave the other man a stern expression and Lance held up his hands in defense.

“What?” Lance asked, feigning a sense of innocence.

“Don’t push him. Just leave it alone.” Shiro sighed.

Lance groaned and let his head fall back on the seat.

“Yes dad.” Lance mumbled.

Shiro chuckled softly. 

“That's very funny.” Shiro said giving Lance a playful glance. 

“I thought it was.” Lance grinned. 

Lance idly picked at the dirt beneath his nails as he let Shiro address the folded pages of the map in silence. Shiro muttered something to himself and grabbed a pencil off the middle console. 

Lance watched quietly as the other man scribed the writing utensil across the paper, stopping every so often to tap the eraser against his lip. 

He sighed and Lance knew there wasn't good news on Shiro's tongue.

“There’s a back road here we can follow. But it meets up with a pretty big town...Going around it means a detour through forest again.” Shiro grimaced. 

“So either way we are fucked?” Lance questioned.

The look Shiro gave him had Lance half expecting the other man to scold him on his language. 

“If we move now we can maybe make it past the town before nightfall.” Shiro huffed. 

“That doesn't sound very promising.” Lance groaned. 

“If we get anywhere near that place when evening falls we will risk the chance of running into a pack. We won't be able to make camp.” Lance said. 

“If  we have to stay up all night running the trucks to get through the town we will just have to deal with it. And we can sleep once we get passed it. ” Shiro said sternly. 

He had no idea what laid out there ahead of them. It was unknown what shape the town was in. It could be overrun with beasts. Or it could be empty.  It was all uncharted. They could come across any number of dangers. But it was a risk they would have to take. If they drove through the night they could make it to another highway by afternoon. 

Shiro didn't want to rob the band of sleep, but they couldn't just sit here and do nothing. They had to keep moving. Always. If you didn't keep traveling you were a dead man. Stay in one spot and that was certain demise. That's what had become of  them. A collection of migrating animals. 

“You know we can't keep doing these all nighters Shiro.” Lance snarled shortly.

Shiro merely stared at him. 

“We're tired. This is the third time this week you've wanted to bulldoze through a full night. I don't know what schedule you are on, but it's running is ragged.”

He paused, his eyes resting on the middle of Shiro's features, right where the age old scare swept across the bridge of his nose. 

“There’s two truths I know about this whole thing. One is the world's shit. It was shit this morning, it will be shit this evening and it will be shit tomorrow. The other is I'm fucking tired. All the time. I hardly sleep when I have the opportunity and lately you aren't even giving me that. Doesn't matter how fast we get where we are going. World's still going to be shit and I'm still going to be tired.” Lance hissed abrasively. 

“Lance…” Shiro started, his voice soft and apologetic. 

Lance held up his hands. 

“No. It's whatever. I know we are doing this whether or not I like it.” Lance said shortly as he took his lanky form and dragged it out of the truck angrily. 

He didn't really mean to take it all out of Shiro. Shiro only wanted what was best for them all. There was a problem and Shiro was going to solve it. That's what Shiro was best at, solving problems and keeping them united. 

Lance was just tired of the constant hurry. What was the rush really? To get to this “safe haven” that they didn't even know the first thing about? Other than it was supposed to be free of the Galra. But even so they weren't even sure that was true. The facts were questionable. 

Lance heard Shiro get out of the truck behind him. 

“Lance, please don't be like that.” Shiro called after him. 

Lance threw his arms up. 

“I'm not being like anything.” He called over his shoulder. 

Lance’s worn, sneakers crunched the dirt as he stormed to his truck. He could hear Shiro following several strides behind. He knew the other man wasn't just going to let it go. Of course. 

Honestly Lance just wanted to be left alone for a bit. The day had been stressful and he just wanted to envelope himself in the cab of his vehicle and disappear. 

Lance yanked his door open and seated himself heavily in the driver's position, he went to slam the door closed but the action was quickly halted as Shiro's prosthetic caught it abruptly. 

Lance just curled his long fingers around the wheel and stared at the larger man.

He didn't say anything for a long moment, hoping maybe Shiro would just go away. He knew that wasn't going to happen. 

“Lance I’m sorry. I didn't know you felt like that. I just-...” Shiro began. 

Lance sighed and thudded the back of his head against the seat.

“I know. I know. You just want to protect us. I know. I’m sorry I’m just…worn out.” Lance huffed looking to Shiro blankly.

Shiro breathed out heavily and nodded slowly.

Without really thinking the bigger man was reaching out to very gently brush his thick fingers through Lance’s dirty chocolate locks. Lance’s eyes never strayed from Shiro’s face. The touch was soft, and strange, but something about it had a slight hue of color coming to Lance’s bronze cheeks.

“I’m sorry to ask so much of you Lance.” Shiro admitted quietly as he moved to cup the side of Lance's face. 

Lance leaned into the dark haired man’s touch.

“It’s ok Shiro.” Lance sighed after a long silence.

Shiro’s lips broke in a kind smile.

They stayed like that for a moment, a spark of something neither one could really categorize flashing between their irises. It was heavy and unexpected, but not unwelcomed. Lance could feel his heart rate begin to race, like some horse come straight from the track it was running away from him. He didn't really know what to do with the sudden tension lingering there like some uninvited guest...So he just...Let it stay. 

Shiro's hand was warm, the heat of his palm radiating through the worn, leather fingerless glove he wore. 

He smelled like earth and gasoline. 

Lance had long since filed the scent to memory. That smell was welcome, and comforting, because that scent was Shiro. And Shiro was safe. Shiro was strong. 

And just as unexpectedly as the moment had come, it fluttered away like a moth taking flight. 

Shiro took his hand away, his eyes dropping to the ground as he cleared his throat. 

“I’ll...Go tell Keith the plan.” Shiro muttered awkwardly. 

Lance nodded quickly. 

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Lance replied as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

He watched as Shiro left, the door to his truck still ajar. Lance let go of the breath he was holding. 

He knew Shiro felt it. 

He saw it in the other man's eyes. 

So why did he avoid it? 

Lance looked to the steering wheel before him with sad eyes. Maybe he was too damaged. Maybe he was too broken. This world had taken a lot from him, maybe it even stole his ability to be worth someone else's desires. Maybe he wasn't fit to be seen in any way other than a comrade. Maybe he was misreading all of this. 

Lance slammed his door closed. 

He didn't want to think about it anymore. 

His blue eyes flicked up to look through his cracked, dust tinged windshield. Keith seemed to have taken the news about as well as Lance and had already stormed to his truck, and Shiro stood with his hand on the door of his own vehicle. 

His eyes caught Lance's. 

But only for a second before he looked away and shut the heavy door. 


End file.
